Nocturnal Ruminations
by Jules7
Summary: Ron's thoughts on a sleeping Hermione. R/Hr (implied other pairings)


This little bit o' fluff was inspired by Amy's  
  
beautiful "Wedding Day Notes". It's Ron's thoughts  
  
while he watches Hermione sleep. Set a few years  
  
after Hogwarts--Ron and Hermione are 22 years old  
  
here. I hope you enjoy it--I had fun writing it!  
  
Dedicated to Lindsey, for her kind words and support.  
  
You're a sweetie--thanks again!  
  
Many thanks go to Bria for beta-reading this (you're a  
  
doll!) and to Sydney for encouraging me to post it.  
  
Thanks, you two.  
  
  
  
Title: Nocturnal Ruminations, Or How Do I Love Thee?  
  
Lemme Tell Ya All About It  
  
Author: Jules (silverlilyus@yahoo.com)  
  
Rating: PG-13 for very slight sexual suggestion  
  
Pairing: Ron/Hermione (implied Harry/Ginny,  
  
Seamus/Lavender, Dean/Parvati)  
  
Summary: After a night out with the boys, Ron sits  
  
and thinks while watching Hermione sleep.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please!  
  
  
  
Nocturnal Ruminations, Or How Do I Love Thee? Lemme  
  
Tell Ya All About It  
  
Y'know, sometimes I just like to watch you sleep.  
  
You look so peaceful and relaxed. I suppose that makes sense, though.  
  
You look…softer. Younger.  
  
Like the headstrong, stubborn, beautiful eleven-year old I met so many years ago. The one who stole my heart when she flounced into my train compartment and made me feel like a fool.  
  
I loved you, even then. I've loved you since I was eleven. Half my life ago, I fell in love with you, although I didn't know it, of course. More fool me.  
  
Tonight, when we were sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, the conversation turned (as it does so often when a group of men get together) to women—namely, the women we loved. That's a little known fact about men: we love to talk about you. We trade stories about you, and we laugh about the silly things you do. We enjoy sharing that part of our lives with each other. And of course, we get some great blackmail out of it. (Remind me to tell you about Dean, Parvati and the broken headboard. That must have been some hole in the wall…)  
  
We had just finished eating when Seamus asked us what we loved most about our significant others. His example was some bawdy, off-color remark about Lavender's apparent flexibility (which I refuse to repeat so as not to offend you or cause you any more reason to call Seamus a pig. Which he is, but that's beside the point.)  
  
As I listened to the observations of my friends, my thoughts turned to you and what I loved most about you. The obvious answer is everything, which was the answer I supplied. (I was consequently awarded with gagging sounds and smirking faces. After all, it is the guys.) On the way home tonight, though, I gave the matter more serious thought, and if I had your old Time- Turner, I'd turn back the clock and respond differently.  
  
I love your smile. The way your whole face shines with it, like there's this amazing light inside you just aching to escape.  
  
I love your laugh. So full bodied and real, it resonates in my soul. When I am the cause of it, my heart swells so much I can scarcely breathe. I love making you laugh.  
  
I love your eyes. The windows to the deepest parts of your soul, they burn me with their intensity. I get lost in them sometimes, and I think I'd be content to stay there forever.  
  
I love your body. So graceful, so soft, so wonderful to hold. You are so beautiful to me, all the time. Even when you think you look wretched, I find you so irresistibly lovely. You take my breath away.  
  
I love your skin. It feels like the purest silk, smooth and warm. I love the way it glows, like it just isn't enough to contain the soul inside you.  
  
I love your hair. It's so long and thick—perfect to run my fingers through when I'm holding you close. I love it when you let it spill down your back, or down over my skin.  
  
I love your touch. It can be soothing or inflaming, tender or rough. No matter what, though, every place you touch me burns with a need to feel more, always.  
  
I love your spirit. You are brilliant and bold and brave and creative and funny and compassionate…I could go on all day. You are every bit as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.  
  
I love the way your nose crinkles up when you're concentrating on something.  
  
I love the way you smile at me 'just because'.  
  
I love the way you own any room you walk into.  
  
I love it that you aren't afraid to be yourself—ever.  
  
I love your corny jokes.  
  
I love that you laugh at my corny jokes.  
  
I love the way I know that, no matter what, I can trust you.  
  
I love the way you react to me, to my voice or my touch.  
  
I love the way you shiver when I run my fingers between your shoulder blades.  
  
I love the way you moan when we make love.  
  
I love that you are the center of my world, my constant.  
  
I love the way you love me, so freely and so completely.  
  
I love the way I am yours and you are mine.  
  
Like I said, I love everything about you.  
  
Do you think that's a better answer?  
  
I love you, Mione. Good night, and sleep sweet. I know I will. 


End file.
